Acquisition
by Fairady
Summary: Desmond wasn't surprised when they found him.


Disclaimer: I own not, though I'd sell what's left of my soul to own some of the wardrobe from the game.

Warnings: Some spoilers if you haven't played the first game?

Notes: Yeah, just random musing from me as I play.

Acquisition  
by Fairady

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Desmond doesn't yell when the cheap balsa wood of his apartment door shatters. He doesn't panic and sit frozen when men kick the remains aside as they rush in. He doesn't angrily demand to know why they're there or what they want. He doesn't throw his cheap lava lamp at them in a misguided attempt to fight them off.

Those are normal reactions, and Desmond just isn't a normal man.

At the deafening crack of the door's destruction, Desmond starts cursing. At the sight of the first man through it he runs to the bedroom and throws open the window. He already knows why they're there and what they want so he doesn't waste time asking. He also knows that he can't fight them. All he can do is what he's been doing for the past nine years.

Run.

The fire escape is a health hazard. Rusted through and barely clinging to the building through some miracle he doesn't care to think about. It groans as he scrambles out onto it. Shuddering in a way that makes him shiver.

The alley is not an option. Two men look up form below and one begins shouting in a radio. Desmond doesn't wait to make sense of his words, he just starts to climb upwards. He's got a lead now but it won't matter if he hesitates. They're years beyond him in training, and he's well aware of just how out of shape he's let himself get.

The rungs under his hand twist in a disturbing way. He prays hard to a god he doesn't believe in that it'll hold. Just long enough for him to get up. Then it can collapse on the guys below him. An unexpected shudder runs through the ladder and into his palms. Desmond doesn't need to look to know one of them is following him.

A jolt of adrenaline hits him and he pushes himself faster. Ignoring the scratches the rusted metal leaves, the burn in his shoulders, and the itch on the back of his very exposed and very vulnerable neck. He jumps for the lip of the roof, ripping the knee of his pants open as he scrambles over it. He's already scanning the roof for the people stationed on top as he pushes himself to his feet and sprints.

Desmond is almost across the roof when he realizes there's no one up there with him. That he's alone. Surprise slows him and he stumbles over a discarded bottle.

_Something was wrong._

He stops and looks back. No one is behind him. The creaking of the ladder is loud enough that he knows the man is still climbing. Which is wrong. The guy should have already been on the roof. Should have caught Desmond the second he stumbled. And there should be someone else on the roof, because fleeing across it is just a given for them.

_They're not from the Farm._

The thought slams through Desmond's thoughts. His mind, running smoothly from escape to hiding spots, grinds to a complete halt.

_Who the hell were they?_

Desmond yells as a stinging pain hits his back. He turns and sees the roof access is open. One of the men who assaulted his door is lowering a gun, and Desmond feels cold fear grip him. Hands running across his back until they touch something and pull it out. A dart lies in his hands. It's a freaking tranq dart.

Desmond panics as he feels a cold numbness spread across his back. He stands there frozen as the fire escape behind him gives one last groan. As more men slowly fan out across the roof around him.

"Who-" Desmond sways, feeling his knees buckle slightly. Talking is so much harder than it should be but he has to know! "What d'ya want!?"

He doesn't feel any pain when he drops to the roof on hands and knees. His vision starting to get blurry. He feels the first hand to touch him though and pulls strength from somewhere to throw an elbow back. The crunch of a nose breaking is satisfying even through the fog engulfing his mind.

They're not from the Farm. Desmond doesn't know who they are or what they want. He tries to fight more, but doesn't get far before his mind is forcibly dragged under.

The last thing he hears is one of the men saying, "Target acquired."

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End file.
